


Before Moonrise

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Show Me Your Teeth [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bondage, Multi, Porn Battle, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for the full moon to approach, and the only thing that seems to help keep Eames calm is touch. Arthur won't let Ariadne help by herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Moonrise

By the time Ariadne regained her voice, Arthur thought it was safe enough to head out from their hiding place. As far as any of his contacts knew, no one was looking for them under any of their known aliases, and there were no whisper of retaliation from their former employer's friends or associates. Ariadne wanted to return to Paris, and Eames merely stared at her as if it was the most idiotic idea known to mankind. "What?" she asked, packing her clothes. There hadn't been too many to start with, since the job initially was only supposed to be an overnight stay in Budapest.

"The full moon is tomorrow," Eames said. His eyes were fever bright as he contemplated her. "Paris is too full of people. Your flat is too small." It was as if the words hurt him, as if he didn't want to admit any kind of weakness.

Ariadne hadn't thought of that, to be honest. She had thought that the change was over, there wasn't anything more to worry about than too-sharp teeth and too-bright eyes, the edgy restlessness and posturing for dominance between him and Arthur. There had been even more strain between the two men after they had woken from the PASIV, as if Eames knew that Arthur had very carefully fucked her every which way within the dream. Then again, his sense of smell had been augmented, and she likely had smelled like arousal and need. She paused in her packing, trying to figure out some sort of compromise. As tiny as her Parisian apartment was, it was _hers,_ and she wanted something other than this tiny suite to stay in.

Arthur had the PASIV and his own bag already packed neatly, ready to go. "I know of a place in Florence," he said quietly. "A villa in the outskirts of the city, no one else around. It should be safe enough if you change."

As much as Eames obviously didn't want to be beholden to Arthur, he nodded stiffly in acceptance. "I suppose I'll see you after," he told Ariadne, hurt in his tone.

"I wouldn't leave you," she said, shaking her head. "There's time to go home afterward."

"I'll book the tickets for the three of us," Arthur said, taking charge. Eames bared his teeth in annoyance, but had to concede the point. He didn't know where the villa was, after all. He would have to make the concession, even though every part of him itched to split Arthur's lips across his teeth and crack his ribcage open to taste his beating heart.

Eames felt his insides settle into place when Ariadne touched his arm. The rising animosity calmed, and he nodded at her with more confidence than he felt. He could wait.

***

The villa was beautiful, something that had been in someone's family for generations. Apparently Arthur collected highbrow contacts and favors the way Eames had collected names and unsavory connections, so it was easy to make a few innocent sounding inquiries about an isolated place to stay for a mini vacation. It was large and spacious, especially after the tiny suite they had been in while hiding in Budapest. They picked bedrooms to stay in for the duration, though by unspoken agreement they were all close to each other. Eames' had little furniture in it; he didn't want to break everything to kindling if he turned violent.

It turned out to be a valid worry. As night fell, he grew even more agitated and started breaking the chairs in the room. It had been surprisingly easy for him to do, and had led to Ariadne standing in the doorway with a pale face. She looked like a low hanging moon in the darkness, and Eames could feel the pull of the change rising underneath his skin. He growled, hands curling into claws. She hesitated, a hand partially extended to touch him. "Eames..." she began, voice uncertain.

He wanted to howl. He wanted to grab her and push her beneath him so he could mount her until the raging onslaught within was gone. He wanted to rip everything to bloody shreds and show the world that he ruled it. He wanted...

Arthur came and pulled her away from the doorway, lips compressed tight. There was an unhappy glint in his eye as he took in Eames, chest heaving with the effort not to launch himself at them. He very calmly and deliberately closed the bedroom door.

But Eames heard his heartbeat. It was erratic, as if he was afraid.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the sharp points. Arthur was afraid of him. Or for him? Or for Ariadne? He couldn't tell. But it was intoxicating, and the need to assert himself over them was rising. Eames looked down at his hands, still hooked into claws. The muscle beneath his skin rippled slightly.

Stunned, Eames nicked his tongue on his canine, which had elongated slightly. He tasted his own blood, tangy and delicious on his tongue. It sparked that primal urge within him, to beat Arthur's face in until he tasted blood, to show him that Ariadne belonged to him. Or to turn him around and mount him as well, to show them both that he was the stronger one, he was the one that had the power here.

He forced his hands back into flat planes, forced his breathing to calm. On some level, he knew he was dangerous. He was even more dangerous now than before, and he really didn't want to harm either Arthur or Ariadne. That they were here with him and hadn't killed him showed him how much they trusted him, how much they cared.

The conflicting urges warred within him, and they were running out of time. Tomorrow was the full moon.

***

Arthur dragged a box into the sitting room where Eames was pacing. He had kicked a table in the parlor earlier, shattering it; he no longer trusted himself around furniture of any kind, since it had been a solid mahogany desk. "What's that?" Eames asked, voice rough and deep.

Arthur opened the top and dragged out a loop of chain. "If you're worried about this, we can always chain you down. It should limit the damage."

"Fucking hell."

"What would you have done last night?" Arthur continued, eyes sharp. Eames could scent anger and fear in him, a wild desperation that was heady and intoxicating. It was the stuff of hunts, the kind of scent that a predator would use to chase down prey.

Fuck.

"I don't know," Eames said finally. "It feels good when she's close," he said, nearly growling. "You can't take her from me. I need her."

There was something not quite like pity in his gaze, and Eames didn't want to tolerate it. It was uncomfortable and horrible to be on the receiving end of it, and Eames turned away from Arthur. "Then we do this, so she can sit next to you safely. So you won't hurt her by accident."

"You're in love with her," Eames snarled. He bared his teeth but Arthur didn't back down even though Eames could clearly smell the adrenaline spike.

"So are you," Arthur returned. "So we're going to do this to keep her safe. Otherwise, we walk. I won't let her put herself into danger, and I don't think you'd want that either."

No, he didn't. Arthur got him there, and Eames nearly howled in defeat. He started when Arthur touched his arm. The crawling feeling under his skin settled a bit in response to Arthur's touch, but Eames didn't pay attention to that. "We'll get through this, Eames. I promise."

Eames believed him, too. If Arthur put his mind to something, it generally happened.

***

Eames tugged on the chains experimentally. Ariadne had wound one of her scarves around each wrist and ankle, then Arthur had attached the chains. There wasn't a lot of give and he couldn't pull them out of the wall. He didn't want to know how Arthur had arranged to insert the iron rings into the walls for the chains to attach to. It was probably best if he didn't ask about those kinds of things. Ariadne sat beside him, stroking his face and hair. He could smell her, could see the shivers rolling through her when he let his tongue touch the inside of her wrist when she moved it past his lips. "You'll stay here?" he asked, his voice unrecognizable.

"I'll stay," Ariadne confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He tilted his chin up so she got his nose, and smiled when she laughed. It was so difficult to get her to laugh, though that wasn't always the urge he had around her. She kissed his mouth, and Arthur turned away slightly to give them a little privacy. Her fingers were light on his chest, and he wanted to rip the chains out of the wall to ravish her.

Another tug, more forceful than before, but he was truly bound to the wall. "I want to touch you," he whined. "It's hours before moonrise," he said, pleading with her. "I just want to touch you. I want to taste you."

Ariadne blushed fiercely, looking in Arthur's direction. As if they hadn't fucked in dreams, as if he couldn't figure that part out. He bared his teeth when she began to speak. "Eames..."

"Don't look at him," he snarled, looking at Ariadne almost desperately. "Just me." He saw the concern in her face and pulled at the chain, desperate to try to run his fingers through her hair. "I just want to touch you. You make it better."

Leaning down slightly, Ariadne touched her lips to his in a soft kiss. "Are you sure? This isn't making it worse?"

"It's calming me down, see?" he insisted, refraining from pulling at the chains. He wanted to, though. He wanted to rip them from the wall and flip her onto her back. Or maybe onto all fours. Or pressed up against the wall, pushing into her as hard as he could until the burning inside his veins stopped. A soft whine left his throat as she ran her hands across his chest. He was bare to the waist, as he had ripped all of his shirts in a rage earlier that day. Eyes locked to his the entire time, Ariadne continued stroking his chest and shoulders. "It helps," he told her, meaning it.

That eased her mind as he hoped it would, and she leaned into the touch. It was easy to forget that he was chained for her protection. He could pretend this was simply a game they were playing, that she had him tied up so she could have her wicked way with him. It didn't even matter that Arthur was in the room, that he could hear Eames making soft contented sounds as Ariadne stroked him.

When Eames opened his eyes, Arthur was sitting on the floor to the side of the room, trying to be unobtrusive about watching. He was keeping an eye on Ariadne more than anything else, and Eames had the perverse wish to make Arthur watch _him._ He twisted to try to kiss Ariadne's wrist, which made her grin at Eames. "Come closer, darling," he said, his voice a low rumble. She leaned in, lips parted slightly, and he leaned up to kiss her.

Ariadne giggled. "You're still you."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," he said, almost gratified by the agitated twitch in Arthur's jaw. _Ha. Chained up and still better than you,_ he thought, rather uncharitably. "Hey... Get on top of me. You'll have an easier time of it, not having to twist all about."

Ariadne's flicked toward Arthur, uncertainly. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."

"He can be a gentleman and leave," Eames replied, pointedly letting his voice rise in volume. "Or join in. I don't bloody care as long as you keep touching me like that."

She straddled his waist then placed her hands on his chest. Her short nails scratched at his chest lightly, making him sigh in pleasure. Ariadne stroked his chest and face, then leaned down to touch his bound arms. She kissed his mouth, sucking on his lower lip and abrading it lightly with her teeth. His were sharper, so he didn't try to return the gesture. Instead, he let his tongue brush over her lips gently, just enough to make her shiver and shimmy slightly over him. The press of her weight over him coupled with her scent drove him up the wall, and he tried to lift his hips a little to touch her. He was erect within his trousers, and the brush of her leg against him made him growl with need.

Uncertainly, Ariadne looked back toward Arthur, who had remained in the room. He studiously was looking away, jaw clenched tight. She looked back toward Eames and unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the demi cup bra she was wearing. He grinned at her, and made an appreciative noise when she tossed the blouse away and leaned down over his chest again. She rubbed her skin against his, and he could ignore the rippling of the muscle beneath his skin. Moonrise was hours away still, and he could hold it off until then if he had incentive enough to.

She was so involved in this teasing dance that it was startling when Arthur's hand came down over her shoulder. Ariadne gasped and lifted her head from Eames' jaw. "Arthur?"

"It's all right," he said, throat working convulsively. "You don't have to stop just because I'm here. This is the calmest he's been since we got here."

It was odd, having Arthur help her undress Eames, finally cutting his clothes from his body. Eames thought about calling Arthur a kinky bastard but decided that was pushing him too far. It might lead to a fight he couldn't win, not while he was chained up. Eames did snarl at him for helping Ariadne undress, his hands too familiar over the curve of her hip and the sweep of her thigh where it met her sensitive knees.

Arthur kept his eyes on Eames as his hands slid Ariadne's pants down. "So how are we doing this?"

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, startled.

"I'm not leaving," Arthur said, pulling the pants from Ariadne's ankle. His hand slid across her instep, making her gasp. "So how are we coordinating the three of us?"

Eames found himself laughing in spite of the urge rising to dominate the hell out of Arthur to show him who was boss. "I just need you touching me. I need something, anything, to hold onto, something to focus on." He looked at the flush rising in Ariadne's skin. "Fuck, I want to taste you so badly."

Arthur helped Ariadne climb on top of Eames so that she retained her balance. Though she was embarrassed, she pushed it aside since that was what he seemed to need just then. His tongue curling around her folds felt just as wonderful as before, and she closed her eyes. Eames' mouth was at her sex, probing and licking at her as if he could devour her whole. Arthur had his lips at her shoulder and one hand curled around her breast, her nipple between two fingers. She didn't know where his other hand was, but it wasn't on her body at all. If she had to guess, it would be that Arthur was running his other hand over the planes of Eames' chest and stomach to soothe the rising agitation within him.

Ariadne gasped and panted, one hand clutching Eames' shoulder and the other reaching around Arthur's waist. She bucked her hips against Eames' mouth, whimpering as his tongue lapped and curled around her clit. "Oh, God," she moaned, her head falling back. Arthur kissed her jaw, and captured her mouth with his once she turned her head. He swallowed her cries when she came, body shaking against his.

She felt all loose-limbed and boneless as she slid down Eames' chest to impale herself on his cock. Arthur's other hand had indeed been on Eames' chest, and he sat back on his haunches when she moved. He shed his clothes quickly, his own cock erect and seeping at the tip. He moved to straddle Eames' abdomen and took hold of Ariadne's face to kiss her. She slid her tongue into his mouth and moved one hand down to grasp and pull at his cock, thumb swiping over the wet slit. He groaned into her mouth and shifted his hips in her grasp. Ariadne rocked slowly over Eames, moaning low in her throat. After a moment, Arthur shifted her hand to grasp his ass for balance, and he shifted his hips slightly so that the head of his cock rubbed against her clit on her down strokes. He also slid along Eames' body, making the man groan and tilt his hips up.

"Fuck," Eames said, voice strained. "If I'd known this was possible, I'd've pushed for this ages ago."

Arthur reached back with one hand and scraped his nails across Eames' chest. "Shut up," he said, trying to be forceful. Instead, his voice came out as a strangled groan of pleasure. Ariadne's hands were tight on his ass, pulling him against her as she slid down Eames, teasing him with a bit of her wetness before she rocked backward. When Eames cried out in release, Arthur waited a beat before moving from the bed. He had Ariadne lean forward, her body over Eames' with her ass in the air and his spent cock lying across his stomach. Arthur slid into Ariadne from behind, making her moan deliciously. She kissed Eames, her hands on his shoulders as Arthur pumped into her hard and fast. He didn't last much longer, and came as well.

Eames was lying beneath them, eyes closed and breath shallow and rapid. "Okay?" Ariadne asked, cradling his face gently. It was still only a few hours to moonrise, and she was studiously avoiding thinking about what they had just done.

His eyes were shockingly blue but still his own. "Yeah. It's settled down now." He smiled at her and tilted his head up as far as he could to give her a kiss. "Whatever happens next, I love you."

She hung onto the words when the moon rose and the screaming began.


End file.
